The Love Potion
by sbarra
Summary: The children try to help Christy and Neil find happiness in each other's arms. *Complete - please read and review *
1. Chapter 1

_**The Love Potion**_

Chapter 1

The people of the Cove loved a jollification and they had long thought that the Preacher ought to get himself hitched. He was, after all, getting a little old in the tooth, much like Teacher. There was such joy in the air as they all gathered in the meadow near the church schoolhouse.

David stood proudly in his best suit, watching the woman he loved walking down the aisle. On either side, children and their parents lined the path they had made. They all held large bunches of flowers. Behind the children stood their parents, all in their Sunday best for the special occasion. The air was full of the pleasant fragrances of mountain laurel, orchids, columbine, lilies and wildflowers he couldn't even name, but they seemed to be trumpeting his happiness.

I tried to settle my nerves, pausing anxiously before taking another step forward. The butterflies in my stomach would not stop fluttering. I stepped forward again, trying to smile as David caught my eye. I couldn't help fondly remembering falling into his strong arms three years earlier. He smiled at me reassuringly and I took another step towards him. I could not figure out why I was in the grips of such worry. Weddings were such happy times. Perhaps it was the large crowd. After all, I had not seen such large numbers of people since Margaret's funeral the previous Fall, just before the war across the sea had begun, and Neil had taken off looking for an escape from all who cared for him.

I took strength from the children's happy faces and made it to the front. It was with surprise that I glanced back and saw Neil among the guests on the far side of the crowd. I had heard that he had returned to the Cove, but he had not visited the Mission. I tried to comfort myself that this was not a personal slight; after all, Miss Alice's bitterness in her grief seemed to have been the main reason he had left straight after Margaret was laid to rest. I caught a trace of a smile as his eyes met mine and I hoped that he would speak with me after the ceremony.

I had tried writing to Neil: December 1914, January 1915, February 1915, March 1915; but if he had received my letters, he had never replied to them. Perhaps, I had wondered, when his face had invaded my dreams, that he had not wanted to put me in a tough position. Miss Alice, after all, would not look on such correspondence with a friendly eye. Ever since Margaret, crying about Neil's neglect, had arrived at the Mission with self-inflicted wounds, my mentor had been a shell of her former self. Dan Scott and Miss Alice had done all they could, but it was Neil we had needed to save her life. He had returned after performing surgery in Raven Gap and come to the Mission – concerned by the smashed glass all through his laboratory and wondering whether Margaret had fled the Cove once more.

I still had nightmares about the acrimonious words that two of the most inspiring people I knew had spat at each other as we had prepared for Margaret's funeral. I had stood between them while people offered their condolences then, and this was the first day I had seen Neil's face since then. I wasn't even sure how I felt. Part of me was angry, another part was sad, but then there was a spring in my step because he had survived his year serving in a Medical Corps in the Great War. Then my hopes were again swallowed up by worries: I couldn't trust that he was here to stay. Besides, how would Miss Alice react to his presence? How hard was her heart towards him?

The first strains of Mendelssohn's wedding march brought me back to the event at hand. My Cutter Gap friends sighed and whispered and hollered as Sissel took her cue and began the long walk down the aisle to her groom. Now that so many eyes were no longer focused on me, I felt like I could relax and enjoy the ceremony. Peter Jorgensen stood beside David and beamed at his sister as she finally came forward to clasp her future husband's hand.

I could see her radiant smile even through the lace of her veil. Sissel's visits to the Cove each Summer had been such a relief to me. We had become firm friends as she filled the House with music and light. Sissel and I had laughed at the rumours that had flown around the Cove about us fighting like broody hens for David's affections. In time, it had become clear that if she was willing to share David's ministry, even in such a remote place, then he would give her his heart in one tick of the clock. She reached over now and squeezed my hand, a gesture not lost on a few gossips in the crowd.

I wasn't sure how I would cope the next day David and Sissel left for a month-long sojourn with their families in Boston. The Mission House would seem so empty without them. Their little flower girl, Ida and Clarence's oldest daughter who had come to visit for the wedding, looked like all of her Christmases had come at once when she realised that their whole family would be reunited at her Grandma Grantland's. I got the impression that David's mother doted a lot on small children.

Dr Ferrand's voice boomed out across the meadow as he performed the ceremony. David and Sissel gave their vows with such deep affection and sincerity. Dr Ferrand proudly announced 'Reverend and Mrs Grantland' and we all clapped. I couldn't stop smiling as I saw the pure joy dancing in their eyes as soon as they broke apart and turned to accept the crowd's congratulations. I followed the happy couple back down the aisle on Peter Jorgensen's arm. Children, mothers, grannies and men pushed forward to wish the couple well. I couldn't see Alice or Dan amongst the throng and I hoped that Neil would not make a scene with them. Peter filled some of the pauses while people spoke with the newly married couple with easy banter and I felt myself relax once more. Ida and Clarence scooped up their little girl and showered her with kisses. They were so proud of her for being such a 'grown-up' little attendant in the wedding party. It was nice to see Ida so well settled and at peace.

"Christy." He only had to say one word and it stirred up such warring, feelings within my heart. I turned and saw that Neil was reaching for my arm. Peter began to introduce himself, but Neil seemed to have eyes only for me. "I must speak with you."

I apologised to Peter and took Neil's arm. We turned and had soon left the crowd behind. He walked quickly and I found myself almost tripping as I rushed to keep up.

"Neil!" I exclaimed and he stopped, looking back at me, and realising that he had offended me by rushing off in such haste.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking away from my flustered expression.

"I'll be missed back there. Whatever is the matter?" I asked.

In that maddening way he has, he did not answer my question. Enigmatically, he gestured to the edge of the meadow. As if remembering his need for gentleman-like manners, he laid his dress coat out on the ground and offered me his hand. Reluctantly, I sat, smoothing the skirt of the long lilac gown around me and making sure that my petticoats weren't showing. Neil paced back and forth, as if trying to gather his thoughts, and then sat down heavily next to me, loosening his tie and then stretching his arms behind him. His broad shoulders tensed as I once again asked him what the matter was.

"Did you wish it was you?" he asked quietly.

"Getting married?" I pondered. "I'm only 22. I've got my whole life ahead of me. It will be lovely to have Sissel serving here with David. She's a breath of fresh air. She's even trying to teach me to sing in key." I smiled.

"You can be yourself with me," he replied.

"I'm not in love with David," I replied, reading between the lines. "It's not like you to listen to the Grannies gossiping, Neil." I tossed the long curls back behind my ears. "Don't you want to tell me about your travels? I've been reading about the British, French and Belgians trying to halt the German advance and…"

I trailed off because the look in his azure eyes was such a mystery to me. He was definitely studying me, but he would not tell me what he was thinking. I looked away in frustration, wondering if I should just walk back to join in the festivities. Being this close to him, but yet, so far from being at ease, was irritating. I could see children laying out picnic blankets and dashing around in the meadow in front of the church schoolhouse. I could see Gracie Sweetwater clinging to David's hands as he happily swung his niece around.

"Beautiful," he said hoarsely.

I glanced back at him and nodded. "She's such a lovely little girl. I'm very happy for Ida. Motherhood has been such a blessing to her."

"I didn't mean the child," he replied. "I… I meant that you are beautiful, Christy."

I blushed, remembering that it was rare for him to compliment anyone. What was it he had told me once; mountain men aren't good at expressing their feelings?

"Mrs Jorgensen had the dress made in Boston. We went there at the beginning of Fall for fittings."

"Hattie told me," he replied. "She also told me all about how you're teaching _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and that Dan has been slowly becoming more confident with teaching Science lessons. I knew about the wedding for months before I even left Europe."

"Your Aunt is quite the correspondent!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

"Dan and Cecile help her."

"They're going to have a baby," I smiled.

He nodded knowingly and I sat silently watching the crowd in the distance once more.

I watched him rubbing his neck and repositioning his tie. He did not seem comfortable in such fancy clothes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after several minutes of silence.

"That it would have been nice for you to reply to my letters. If you didn't want Alice to see them, surely you could have enclosed them in your letters to your Aunt. I'm sure that Dan or his wife would have passed them on to me without offending Miss Alice."

"You assume then that I wrote back to my Aunt," he replied. "I did not. I tried to not think about this place for a minute, but, as always, I could not truly escape it."

Was he really telling me that he hated everything about the place and the people that I loved? I felt crest-fallen, but did not want to seem like some lovesick girl pining for him. Had every charged look between us just been a figment of my imagination?

He cracked his knuckles distractedly. "Must we talk? I seem to offend you whenever I open my mouth. Can't we just sit here and enjoy the sunny afternoon? I'm… I'm tired from travelling. I… I'm not used to such… niceties."

I tried to relax. At least he wanted me to sit with him; Neil wasn't avoiding me and, out of all the people in the Cove, he wanted me as a companion. Part of his demeanour niggled at me though. Didn't he care what I had to say? I had so many thoughts and feelings and dreams and worries. Did he think that he could just compliment my dress and then have an excuse to not be socialising with people that had missed him so much? They would all assume, from this distance, that we were deep in conversation – a meeting of the minds. Perhaps, some were speculating, that he was asking me if I would allow him to court me. It had, after all, been the obligatory year since poor Margaret's death. The longer he was silent, the more all of these thoughts circled around in my mind - in the silence, like crows cawing, making me more and more on edge.

"Do you care about me at all?" I asked at length.

He looked stunned. "What kind of a question is that? I am here, aren't I? I do not understand how the female brain works."

"For once," I said firmly, "I want a straight answer. None of your pauses or musings."

"I don't know what you want me to say." He replied. "Words are so often misunderstood. Words are…"

He made my blood boil. It was a simple question. If he cared for me, he need merely say 'Yes,' and, yet, he hesitated. I wasn't asking for romantic poetry; I just wanted some reassurance.

"You know where I will be," I told him, standing up and not looking back as I began the walk back across the meadow.

I had not expected him to follow me. He had made it clear that he did not want to be with the people of the Cove who admired him so much. I was almost back to the picnic rugs when I heard his quick steps behind me.

He did not speak, merely reached for my hand and spun me around to face him.

"Neil," I began. "You won't speak with me so…"

He had other things on his mind. Neil wrapped his arms around me and captured my mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss. I was so stunned, but he was so insistent, his lips pushing against mine, his hands running up and down my back. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back, a look of triumph in his eyes. I looked from him to the assembled crowd watching, many of them open-mouthed. I felt humiliated and angry – he would not speak with me in private, but he would steal kisses in front of the whole Cove? I have never hit anyone in my life, not even my brother, George, but the slap I landed on his cheek echoed across Cutter Gap.

"I'm not her!" I spat at him. He couldn't treat me like he had Margaret - rushing into a relationship without following any of the rules of courtship.

Neil looked confused and then, red-faced, he spun on his heel and walked hurriedly away. I could hear some of the Mountain men hooting and hollering. I wasn't sure what they were reacting to the most: his passionate kiss or my almighty slap. Thankfully, Fairlight and Opal reached my side and spoke comforting words, taking me to a quiet picnic blanket under a peaceful oak tree.

During the dancing, I watched the horizon in vain for Neil's return, between dances with David, Clarence, Dan and Peter. I managed to get through my Bridesmaid's Speech without too many tears. Miss Alice smiled more than I had seen her do for some time, but I was still tense – worried about her reaction to Neil's very public kiss and my reaction. Would she be relieved that I had slapped him, or would she think me foolish?

The next day was filled with preparations for the departure of the Grantland's, Clearwater's and Jorgensen's, so thankfully I was too busy to dwell too much on the embarrassing scene. As I watched the carts departing towards El Pano, I stood between Miss Alice and Dr Ferrand, tempted to run after Sissel and David to escape from any rebukes I was likely to endure. Dr Ferrand excused himself, going back to his new bunkhouse residence to continue writing his sermon. Alice asked me to take a walk around the pond with her. She was so quiet, and I found myself recounting my frustrating conversation with Neil and my anger that he would presume to kiss me and embarrass me like he had.

"He still has a lot to learn about women," was all Miss Alice said and I wondered if I would ever feel completely at peace with her again. She so often retreated behind a medical textbook or quilt she was sewing for a poor family. Her Quaker silences seemed to stretch on for eternities. I was so relieved when she continued. "Thee needn't act like thee is treading on eggshells when thee talks with me, Christy. Surprisingly, it seems like I may have been the only person that Neil did correspond with during his… service on the Western Front."

I was stunned. All of those months of me writing unanswered letters and being too worried to mention his name within a mile of her presence and my mentor had been writing to him? I must have looked quite perplexed because she affectionately squeezed my hand and began to explain what had occurred.

"Neil wrote when he reached London and explained that he had signed up with a Medical Corps for a one-year tour of duty. His first letter was very difficult for me to read because he barely mentioned Margaret. It could have been a letter to one of his old medical school friends. It was hardly the letter that I would have written to a mother grieving for a daughter… who had recently taken her own life."

My mentor was silent for some time and I squeezed her hand as we walked. All I could see in my mind's eye was Margaret opening her arms as she sobbed and came up the Mission steps on the day of her death. I had seen Alice stand up with a look of hope on her face, as if all her prayers had been answered and Margaret was truly ready to reconcile with her. Then I heard the quilting circle ladies stop their pleasant chatter and then scream as they saw the blood and the cuts in Margaret's blouse where she had stuck herself over and over with shards of broken glass.

At first, because Margaret kept saying, "He has killed me, his work has killed me…" people worried that Neil had attacked her in some fit of passion, but then we all knew that he was at Raven Gap operating on Old Jebediah. Ben Pentland had even mentioned it that morning when he came by after being out that way. The main thing I remembered, though, was Alice's sobs as she and Dan realised that they could not possibly suture so many wounds before Margaret's bleeding took her life.

"I almost burned his next letter, but I am so glad that I did not He must have thought that I would perhaps respond to the first business-like letter and ease some of his unexpressed guilt by writing in a like tone. I did attempt to write to him, but those missives would not have brought peace to anyone. They were full of hate, blaming him for things that were not even his fault. Margaret, after all, was not innocent in all this. His second letter, written after he had lost countless patients on the Western Front, was full of remorse. After much prayer, I found myself able to write to him of hope and reconciliation. I found a forgiveness that could only have been a gift of the Lord's Spirit and mentioned all of the times that I knew that Margaret had been at fault…"

"It was so kind of you to be so forgiving," I smiled, glowing with admiration for her.

"I would not have had the strength to keep going if it had not been for God, Christy. Thee must glory in Him. I… only wish that Margaret could have been at peace with her Maker. I… I was delighted to learn from one of Neil's letters that he had begun to attend chapel services and to once more read the Good Book… I have been meaning to speak to thee for some weeks, ever since I knew he would return… but… I feared that… well, thee never spoke of him. I feared that thy feelings for him… blossoming long before my daughter had ever returned… had cooled."

"Oh, no, Miss Alice! That was for you!" I exclaimed at once. "I thought I was respecting Margaret's memory by not even breathing Neil's name around you."

Her knowing smile was almost mischievous. "So thee does have warm feelings for him, then?"

I smiled and nodded, then shook my head. "He's such a confusing man, Miss Alice. I can never seem to figure him out. He… he was acting like he did not even want to be in the Cove!"

"Hmmm, and yet, here he is," Alice replied with another knowing look. "He needs the love of a good woman to sort him out. As you know, because I so often quote my Papa's opinion on the matter, a family is God's love made evident."

"Are… are you saying that if… if he were to court me that… that you would not object?" Christy asked.

"Far from it!" Alice exclaimed. "I love thee both, Christy. It would do my heart good to see him not repeat the mistakes of the past, but have a blessed future with thee!"

"Oh, Miss Alice," Christy wrapped her arms around the woman, "I should have spoken with you months ago. I've been so worried about hurting your feelings…"

"I apologise for my… dark moods, Christy. Will thee forgive me?"

"Of course," Christy hugged her tighter.

"As soon as Dr Ferrand arrived last week, he rebuked me for not being more open with you, Christy. As crotchety as he seems at times, Jacob can detect hurt feelings even without his beloved stethoscope." She smiled as she beamed down at me. "I hope he takes some of his own advice and shows you his less stern and thundery side this month!"

Christy had not felt like spinning cartwheels across the meadow for at least a year and a half. Now, though, she found so much irrepressible joy building up within her that she easily spun through the air. It was like her first meeting with Alice in the Cove, except now, they were such firm friends and she needn't feel embarrassed to show her feelings. Alice clapped as Christy, giggling, straightened up.

"Do you think Neil will attend the service tomorrow?" Christy asked excitedly.

"Perhaps apologising for that slap would smooth the way," Alice smiled. "Maybe you could go on a mission of mercy and take along some of the left-over tarts from the wedding."

"You're the best!" Christy exclaimed, rushing off to the Mission House kitchen.

She packed a picnic basket of leftovers, wondering how much of a bear cave Neil's place would be like. She assumed that, as Alice had known of his return, perhaps some of the women had aired it out for him and left a few jars of preserves. Christy found herself even thinking about changing her blue-checked dress, but caught herself. He needed to apologise for his moody silences and for embarrassing her with that passionate kiss in front of everyone.

She had been almost finished arranging the basket when the O'Teale children knocked on the door. Mountie and Orter Ball were carrying around their 'lines' from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Christy had painstakingly written out their parts. He was carrying his section from Act Two about Puck getting his instructions on how to use the love potion extracted from Cupid's exotic flower:

_The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid__  
__Will make or man or woman madly dote__  
__Upon the next live creature that it sees_

"Were you practising?" Christy asked; a bit distracted by her preparations. She was relieved when she explained to the children that there were so many leftovers that would spoil unless they were quickly eaten. The O'Teale's happily 'helped' her by wolfing down two big slices of pie each.

"We made you a potion," Mountie said between bites, showing them the kettle they had brought with them. "A potion? Oh, for the play? That was very thoughtful. We'll just use a flower rinsed in water on the big night."

"No," Mountie shook her head worriedly. "It's a love potion for you and the Doc!"

"So… so that he'll stay," Orter Ball added. "If you kiss him back and don't slap him, then… then he might stay a spell and have young 'uns for us to play with."

"Oh," Christy glanced down at their earnest faces and wide, trusting eyes. "Uh, let me put some poison on my eyes, and… and then when I see the Doc… then…"

"This is the type you have to swallow," Orter Ball told her. "It be brewed like tea."

"We made it real special," Mountie assured her. "Lots of pretty flowers and molasses."

"We worked out the recipe ourselves," Orter Ball told her proudly.

"Well, maybe just a sip," Christy decided, humouring them, "I… I was going to go and apologise to the Doc, so… maybe he will get one kiss without a slap in return." She smiled and gulped down some of the odd- tasting mixture.

The children were delighted and their smiles were her reward. Christy grabbed the basket and they followed her, giggling and calling out, while Prince carried her up towards Neil's cabin. Their voices fell away as she crossed Big Spoon Creek and neared the MacNeill barn.

She couldn't hear or see Neil anywhere, despite calling out, which usually roused him if he was pottering about the cabin. Christy dismounted, hitched Prince's reins to the post and took the basket up the stairs. She felt a bit jittery and hoped the butterflies in her stomach would settle down soon.

"Neil?" she called again.

Christy could hear snoring as soon as she opened the door. She was unsure about whether to disturb him. For all she knew, he had been called away on his first of many night calls the previous evening. She stood on the threshold – feeling light-headed and unsure about whether to proceed.

A/N: Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Neil was sleeping on a mattress that he had pulled in front of the hearth in the main room. I was surprised, but I guess he had decided to light one fire rather than two. He was flat on his back, his brown britches and checked shirt so familiar. I knew this Neil MacNeill – the man who fished and healed others in the simplest of surroundings. I could feel confident to sit beside him and gaze into the fire while he slept.

As I crept closer, my uncertainty returned once more. I could smell whiskey and then I saw an overturned stoneware jug. He must have returned from our confrontation at the wedding and spent the night drinking moonshine. My nose wrinkled and I remembered him laughing at the face I pulled when I did not like the smell of something. It was hard to believe that that was over three years ago.

Absentmindedly I fussed with settling myself comfortably on the edge of the mattress I had chosen, smoothing the skirt of my blue checked dress. I gazed at his face for some time, remembering all of the months when I had dreamed of being this close to him, only to wake and be disappointed. He looked so calm when he was asleep. I could not see the lines of consternation or concentration that so often marked his strong, handsome features. He looked so much less care-worn and battle-scarred.

Fondly, I tentatively reached out and stroked some of his unruly curls back behind his ear. He shifted a little, but did not wake. I guess he was used to sleeping in all sorts of places. I'm sure he had told me once that he had night calls every second night one year. I could feel myself getting quite warm, so I shifted away from the fire, moving around to lie next to his other side. I faced away from him; worried I would wake him if I kept touching his hair and face.

After a few minutes of studying his treasures: furniture and family heirlooms brought to America by his Scottish ancestors in the 1740s, I felt his arm come to rest on my side. I started and tensed, but then realised that he was still fast asleep and was not conscious of my presence.

He sleepily pulled me towards him, curving his large frame around my petite one. I was so tired and for a while I lost track of time. I just revelled in the feeling of being this close to him; of there being nothing between us for once. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, on one of my cheeks. I began to feel far too warm and realised that I would need to stand up and fetch some water. I tried to shift Neil's arm so that I could wriggle away, but he was holding me too firmly. I managed to turn to face him and began to repeat his name.

"Neil!" I exclaimed, become frustrated. I was hot and confused. I felt dizzy and thirsty. I felt so many things at once.

He snorted in his sleep and then slowly looked at me in bleary-eyed bewilderment.

"I… I brought you pie. I… came to apologise for slapping you…I… I was just going to sit down and then… I kind of found myself in your arms."

A look of triumph brightened his pale features, "I… I am sorry for kissing you in front of everyone in the meadow, lass," he said croakily. "I… I practised the words, over and over again. I was going to tell you about the night that I cried out to the Lord to bring me home safely to you… but… all the words fled when I saw you…"

His breath reeked of the strong liquor and I told him so. He chuckled, laughing all the more as I stood up and put my hands on my hips. I then set about helping him up, ordering him to sit at the table and eat something. He was not always very good at taking care of himself, but he always had time to care for others. He was full of such paradoxes. He was very grateful for the cornbread and tarts. I watched him wolfing it down while I stood at the washstand running my moistened handkerchief over my neck.

"It's very warm in here," I told him.

Neil looked surprised and was immediately studying me with a clinical eye. "There's a definite chill in the air, Christy," he told me, motioning to the chair beside the door. I opened it before I sat down, hoping that some of the heat would escape. My heart was beating so quickly as I neared him once more. Was I lovesick? What had come over me?

"It's too bright in here now," I grumbled uncharacteristically.

I had Neil's full attention now. He reached out and closed the door with one arm, looking deep into my eyes, turning my head one way and then the other.

"Photophobia," he mumbled and I could tell he was taking note of other symptoms. "Mydriasis and hyperthermia, too."

"Speak English," I replied irritably.

"You're more sensitive to light and heat, plus your pupils are excessively dilated. Those beautiful blue irises of yours are barely visible."

Only Neil MacNeill could compliment a lady so confidently using medical terminology.

"I haven't been sick for months," I said dismissively, feeling tired and confused.

"You had pneumonia in the Spring," he muttered, seeming frustrated by my lack of concern. "I… I do care about you, Christy. I read every word you wrote me a hundred times… a thousand times… Alice, Hattie, Dan… even David wrote to me out of concern for you. They all wanted me to come back to you…"

"Well, I'm not sick now," I said defiantly, feeling like the room was becoming quite small. The walls were definitely moving. Whenever I looked away for a moment, I was sure that they crept closer.

For some unknown reason I felt like trying to learn to swim, imagine being able to escape into the cool water of the river. I must have said something of the kind out loud, because Neil was soon holding me with one hand while he took my pulse with the other.

"Tachycardia," he muttered and then seeing some look of annoyance darting across my flushed face, he explained, "Your heart is thumping at more than 100 beats a minute. I'm going to loosen your collar."

He reached out and undid the top two buttons on my dress, urging me to lean forward while he bathed my forehead with my wet handkerchief. Suddenly, a desire to remove the rest of my clothes gripped me; I tossed off my shoes and began to pull off my stockings.

Neil looked flabbergasted and I found myself laughing harder than I ever had in my life as I stood and held up the end of my skirt to show him my petticoats. He picked me up and held me firmly over one shoulder.

"Don't you like me?" I said over and over again until my voice was hoarse.

Then, I could hear him as if from far away, saying, "I love you, Christy. I respect you. Believe me, this is far harder for me to do than you realise! I would much rather make love to you than spend more than a minute in Ferrand's company!"

The next thing I knew I was lying cradled in his arms as he nudged Prince down the last hill to the Mission House. I heard him calling for Miss Alice and Dr Ferrand. They all moved in slow motion around me and couldn't seem to understand what I was saying.

"I concur. Nothing else fits the symptoms. She's consumed _Datura stramonium_." I heard Dr Ferrand saying as Miss Alice ushered them back into my room after forcing a clean nightdress over my warm head.

"Datura stamronium. Datra stratum," I began to try to repeat the name and laughed at the odd Latin words. Why were so many scientific words so hard to say?

"Christy," Neil sat beside me, holding a cold compress to my forehead. "Did anyone at the wedding give you a strange brew or…"

"The symptoms manifest in an hour or two…" Dr Ferrand reminded him. "She was in perfect health when she left here."

"Do you think I would give her Nightshade?" Neil blustered angrily. "I'm not in the habit of giving young ladies who visit my home some Devil's Snare, Doctor!"

"Calm down, Neil!" Alice exclaimed. "You, too, Jacob! We're all concerned about Christy; there's no need to fight or lay blame!"

The three of them took it in turns to sit with me, feeding me emetics to purge my stomach, wiping my mouth, holding cold compresses on my head. I slipped in and out of consciousness.

During one of my more lucid moments, I remember awaking to hear Neil praying for me. It was odd to see his lips forming such humble and godly words, but it made my heart swell with joy. I reached out and took his hand, pulling it over towards my heart. My throat was so dry that I could not form the words, but he seemed to understand me. Perhaps, sometimes words are not as important as actions in expressing love.

The next time I awoke and he was there it was mid-morning and I shielded my eyes from the light. He helped me to sit up a little against the pillows and held a glass so that I could sip the water. My throat was still dry, but I found that I could whisper hoarsely.

"Mountie and Orter Ball," I managed to rasp.

"You're just going to have to follow your doctor's orders," Neil said firmly. "There will be no school for at least a week. You've been in this bed for four days as it is."

I was amazed that I had been such a burden to everyone and a tear rolled down my cheek. He reached out and gently wiped my face with his handkerchief.

"Do you know how you ingested the poison?" he asked quietly.

"The O'Teales," I coughed. "Mountie and Orter Ball made me a love potion. They were very sad that I had slapped you at David and Sissel's wedding. They thought I should kiss you instead. They wanted you to stay in Cutter Gap."

"You should never eat or drink anything if you don't know what is in it!" he exclaimed angrily.

"I humoured them; they've been trying so hard to learn their lines for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. I thought it was just molasses and herbs, but it tasted terrible."

"I bet," he said, cursing under his breath.

"Where are you going?" I asked, watching him gathering his saddlebags.

"To the O'Teales," he muttered, his face perplexed.

"I… You won't punish them, will you? I… I should have just pretended to swallow some… I see that now. I just don't like it when the other children tease them and…"

"Rest your voice," he replied, irritably. "I've got to go and treat their hands – no doubt they'll have painful rashes by now."

"I… If only I had known," Christy sighed and reached out to wipe her own tears away. "I hope Swannie isn't making it worse with some awful home remedy."

"That's why I'm going straight away," Neil replied. "Try to get some sleep."

He clomped over to the door, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floors in the fairly empty house. I immediately felt extremely alone and vulnerable. I heard him clear his throat and looked up.

"I'll… I'll be back as soon as I can," he mumbled. "That is… if you want me to come back and sit a spell with you."

"I… Of course I do," I replied, trying not to sound too anxious.

"It… It was hard to tell, what… what was 'you' and what was the 'Devil's Snare'… you… seemed so… in love with me."

I cringed, suddenly remembering pulling off my stockings and dancing about showing him my petticoats beneath my dress. He seemed to have misinterpreted my look of revulsion. I tried to stand up, to follow him, wanting to explain, but I felt too weak. I heard the door slam and I fell back onto the bed, sobbing into my pillow.

A/N: Please review


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next time I awoke, it was the dead of night. The large Mission House slumbered around me. At times like this, when the wind was whistling outside, it almost seemed like the house was snoring. There was no one beside my bed and I hoped that they were all getting some well-deserved sleep. I padded over to the washstand, cleaning my face and brushing my teeth. I badly wanted to have a bath, but I knew that attempting to have one at midnight would hardly endear me to my tired friends! I slowly walked over to the double doors, being careful to avoid the two floorboards that creaked. I opened one door carefully and shuffled out, my slippers thankfully keeping her feet warm in the chilly air.

From within my bedroom, I heard Neil whisper my name. He must have been asleep in one of the small guest rooms. I motioned to him, and he joined me on the veranda, grabbing my dressing gown as he came through. He insisted that I put it on. I relented; worried that he would wake Miss Alice or Dr Ferrand.

"I thought you were staying in the Bunkhouse," I whispered.

"I can leave if you want me to," he replied, looking at me defiantly, but sounding hurt.

"No, no," I whispered, "I was just trying to apologise. I wanted you three to be able to sleep."

"You should be tucked up in bed," Neil told me quietly. "I made Alice go to bed. I've been reading in the kitchen."

"You heard me from the kitchen?" I asked incredulously.

"I have very good hearing," Neil shrugged, motioning to one of the benches along the wall.

I took a seat, but he could see that I was shivering.

"I'll be back in a minute," he mumbled, returning with a coverlet from my bedroom. "There's a chill in the air, lass. You've got to keep warm. We can't have you falling ill again, can we?"

"Thankyou," I said, relieved that he was fussing over her, rather than stomping away like he had earlier that day. I waited until he took a seat next to me. "I'm sorry about earlier. I… I didn't mean to say or do anything to offend you. I suddenly remembered how ridiculous my behaviour was at your home the other day. I can't believe I was dancing around and showing you my bare legs."

Neil reached out and ran his fingers through my long hair. I rested my head on one of his broad shoulders. "I am a doctor," he reminded me amiably. "I've seen lots of legs in my days."

"Thanks for making light of it," I whispered.

"I wouldn't hold such a thing against you, anyway, lass. You were under the influence of 'love potion' after all."

"Were the O'Teale children okay?" I asked.

"They were fine. Swannie had used some herbal balms that reduced the swelling. I left her an ointment to 'try' as well. I always have to phrase it like that with her, because Granny O'Teale's word is gospel in that house."

"You didn't scold Mountie and Orter Ball too much, did you?" I asked.

"I followed their teacher's instructions, Christy," Neil replied, smiling down at me as he ran his long fingers through my luscious hair. "I mentioned that part of the love potion must have worked, because you haven't slapped me for days, but I told them to avoid the purple trumpet flowers, explaining a bit about poisonous plants. They knew you were sick, and given the rashes on their hands, I think they realised that they were in the wrong."

"You didn't need to blister them with your wrath after all then," I observed.

Neil nodded and then smirked, "They seemed more worried that you would be angry with them! I rode back thinking about you putting your hands on your hips and stomping your foot!"

I laughed and he reached out and wrapped an arm around me, drawing me into his side. "I read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, you know. After I got the letters about you teaching it. I got a few funny looks in the mess tent because most of the time I read medical journals or the Psalms you had written in your letters. Suddenly, as I listened to the distant rumble of bombings, I was reading Shakespeare. I felt closer to you in reading it, imagining us reading the same lines (of both of the Bible and of the Bard) on opposite sides of the world."

"What did you think of it?" I asked, amazed that he had wanted to feel close to me. I so often misread this man.

"Well, at first, I remembered why I hadn't liked it when I was a lad, but then phrases started to jump out at me."

"Like what?" I asked, intrigued.

"The course of true love never did run smooth," he whispered, turning my head from looking up at the stars so that he could gaze into my eyes. "Do you think that could be true of us?" he asked hoarsely. "This week… everything that happened with Margaret… could we still be on the course to true love?"

"Yes," I said immediately.

He smiled so widely that the lines around his eyes crinkled in delight. I studied his lips, wondering if he would kiss me. I did not have to wait long to find out. He tilted my head and captured my lips with his own, tenderly and passionately exploring my mouth. I melted into his arms, no longer sure who was breathing for whom. It was a moment of perfect contentedness.

Suddenly a lantern was thrust into our faces. "This is what I was worried about!" Dr Ferrand's voice boomed.

Neil helped me to my feet and I heard Miss Alice call out from her room, wondering what was wrong. "Surely I'm allowed to kiss the woman I'm courting without interruption!" Neil exclaimed, holding me tightly.

Dr Ferrand waved the lantern about while he yelled at Neil. "I went to your cabin today. You were paying house calls and I realised that I had forgotten to ask you to bring back several items we needed: camphor, antiseptic and the like. What I found was a scene of dissipation: a mattress, ladies stockings and a petticoat strewn on the floor!"

"Both of which could be easily explained if you asked me about them over breakfast!" Neil exclaimed. He lifted me up in his arms and carried me down the stairs to the parlour, putting on a paraffin lamp and wrapping the covers around me once more. I could hear Alice and Dr Ferrand exchanging heated words upstairs.

I patted the settee next to me and Neil heavily sat down, watching the dying embers in the fireplace. I leaned over and whispered, "The course of true love never did run smooth, Doctor."

He smiled back and intertwined his large work-worn fingers with me petite ones. I fell asleep with my head resting against his shoulder. I hoped that it would be the first of many nights where we would fall asleep together.

**The End.**

**A/N: Please review and check out my other Christy stories like 'Light in my Darkest Night' :) **


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